


Devolution

by lololeuthanizemepls



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Confessions, Domestic, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Freeform, M/M, Military AU, Pain, Post-Graduation, Reminiscing, Sad, Sexual Content, Slow Burn, Tragedy, implied depression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-29
Updated: 2017-01-29
Packaged: 2018-09-20 13:44:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9494060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lololeuthanizemepls/pseuds/lololeuthanizemepls
Summary: "I'm not going anywhere."° ° °Iwaizumi knows that the closer they are, the further it will take them apart. The only way Iwaizumi could reach him is if he advanced, then Oikawa would weaken, that every step forward for Iwaizumi was two steps back for Oikawa. Eventually, there would be no way for either of them to want to take a step— this was the closest they'd ever been lately since Iwaizumi's confession.





	

_Oikawa had been too selfless lately._

_A facade as a lover, a teammate, a friend. As if he were humbled, as if pride was void in this universe — over come with dysphoria._

_Iwaizumi had been too withdrawn lately._

_The usual impassive looks that truly meant concern and transcendent thoughts he wouldn't put into words, excluding the night he made the venture of telling Oikawa,_

_". . . I'm going into the Marines."_

_Clearly, this was something for Oikawa to disparage, something to rouse petulance and animosity, possibly even desolation. Iwaizumi hadn't told him until later, after he had calmed that he would be deployed in 3 months; that was noted short of 3 months ago._

_It was never like this; Iwaizumi naturally, usually was the pillar, on which neither could agree on who truly boasted the title. They would have to prove it._

_But as of lately, they couldn't. Because every step forward for Iwaizumi was two steps back for Oikawa. Iwaizumi'd always thought Oikawa was sanguine, that he was miles ahead of him in euphoria, in serenity._

_He realized that wasn't the case, that the gap was supposedly less than he thought — it lessened each day in fact. That the only way Iwaizumi could reach him is if he advanced, then Oikawa would weaken, eventually until there was no way for either of them to want to take a step-- this was the closest they'd ever been lately since Iwaizumi's confession._

_Except that as of now, Iwaizumi admits to just letting Oikawa fulfill new... questionable proclivities._

_Because tonight the back of Oikawa's neck is pressed fast against Iwaizumi's navel, toying at the fabric of Hajime's legs that lay on either side of him. Almost like a denim throne, because he can feel Iwaizumi's hand on his collar from behind, picking at the pieces of lint that were never there in the first place._

_It would seem content, but if this eerie silence was only being heard by Iwaizumi, then not. What with the knowledge that in a few days, Iwaizumi would be serving his country; Oikawa insists that he serve him, him only._

_Kings are served, he's said pensively, you stay by my side — not miles, not hours, not seas apart from me._

_And then Oikawa lifts his head undaunted, turning his body around entirely until he, for once in a sincere day, meets the eyes of his favorite offender._

_Iwaizumi curls his leg upward at the sight of it, startled because maybe he had been pining for a conversation, but knows that it isn't what Oikawa is going to give him as he looks in his melancholy, insincere eyes._

_Oikawa was reposed, but it was as if it made Iwaizumi the perturbed one, what with how his heart pounded. In most cases, he grieved for Oikawa to meet his level of tranquility, but now, he craved the familiar feeling of being lifted by Oikawa's elations._

_Oikawa would do that, whether it was with the way his gangly arm is sliding up Hajime's thigh to the waistband, or the way that no matter what, he kept the practicality of the elusive court with his adroit hand. Such a memory was a surprise to be retentive of, which is when he realized, too, that he couldn't even recall the last time Oikawa laughed, smiled for that matter._

_Iwaizumi would indulge in the silence, the creak of the bed with how Oikawa fed an ego other than his own. No more complacency; it seemed the only way to keep himself fulfilled was to make others content first._

_It wasn't long until the deft fingers of the team setter would undo the button of his pants, a leap of faith. Not even a gesture in ask of returning the favor. A foreign propensity._

_So Iwaizumi let him._

_Lets him please his sudden incredulous needs for reasons unknown._

_Yet, Iwaizumi himself knows that he needs more, more of Oikawa before all he will have is the thought of him from probably halfway across the world. Before he realizes having too much can take back tenfold._

_Iwaizumi breathes, taking in and mimicking Oikawa's presentation of composure, just to maybe show that he wasn't going to break on the outside; he couldn't say for the inside, his hips burning in calamity from denial. His mind its own arsonist, fanning the flame of apprehension — the realization of what he truly will be losing in a few days._

_"I don't understand," he finally says, watching Oikawa's wrist move because the rest of his hand disappears in his pants. He knows where it is, but he doesn't know who exactly is before him._

_In a way he doesn't complain, a languid confrontation before Oikawa gives a soft sigh, a soft, "I don't either."_

_Iwaizumi slouches under the frantic thought of this gap opening again until he takes a forgotten breath, his muscles drawn tight in tension from the anxiety, yet content in the fact Oikawa still persists in handling him._

_But Oikawa's other hand clasps Iwaizumi's leg, fingers threading tight on the jeans, his own body trembling temperately before Iwaizumi whispers,_

_**"I'm not going anywhere."** _

_Because he knows._

_When it truly is the last few days, Iwaizumi depreciates the benefits of where his life will transcend in the military — because there's the thought that neither may be in either's life if he advances. Because there's the thought that Oikawa won't be in it at all._

_So this was why — Oikawa was just as fearful as Iwaizumi. Yet, it didn’t seem the right word to define this impasse that neither of them seem to be the person they were anymore._

_Now wouldn't be the time to bring up the future; now wouldn't be the time to take the present for granted. As selfish as it sounds, there were two ways that Iwaizumi wouldn't take_ this _for granted._

 _Iwaizumi holds Oikawa's hand on his thigh, squeezes it and flinches when Oikawa does too at the gesture; he squeezes_ Iwaizumi _abruptly._

_Hajime groans, grits his teeth in embarrassment at the way even the slight sound catches in his throat._

_"Sorry..." Oikawa's voice too sincere for the way he deftly flicks his wrist, emitting irregular pants from Hajime; he gives Oikawa credit where it was due._

_Iwaizumi's already at his limit emotionally—physically, and by now, he can tell his own facade of composure crumbled minutes ago. That's when he realized how long it took to get here. To complete desolation, mental decrepitude._ _Minutes. In the many times Oikawa's done this,_ this _is the limit._

_"Oikawa," Iwaizumi breathes slowly after Oikawa whispers 'sorry' again, for another reason supposedly._

_Iwaizumi knows he himself should be saying sorry, only hopes Oikawa already knows that he's at least thinking it._

_But before he can even stutter his thoughts and concerns, a final stroke from Oikawa's palm has him lurching forward, shaking under the latter boy's hand._

_He gives a stifled moan, one drowned in false content under his apprehension. It hurt to feel good. It hurt to feel this way._

_Oikawa carefully pulls his hand out from Iwaizumi's boxers; Hajime still feels as if his body and heart are pulled taut, that even though his fingers are still threaded in Oikawa's, the affliction might snap what little bearing he has left. He wonders how Oikawa himself has sustained his masquerade for so long. Why he doesn't fight for him as he always would._

_**Oikawa has fell too far down from his high throne.** _

_By now, Hajime is desperate to make sense in this felicity but dishonesty in eachother._

_For tonight, Iwaizumi's heard it one too many times, but Oikawa says yet again the only excuse the either of them can aver in this vexation,_

_**"Sorry."** _

 

_° ° °_

 

_Iwaizumi dares to pull at that thread, dares to vociferate the reminder that two days from now, he will be gone. The suitcases packed, the manacle coming undone before he realizes he's only thinking of it. Before he realizes he's only staring at Oikawa on the bed from the desktop chair._

_A single word hadn't even rolled off his tongue._

_Oikawa's eyes already have caught his, waving a hand to rouse Iwaizumi's retentiveness; the latter had been apparently staring for a few minutes, as if he were trying to recall something from a time in the womb._

_But now in this maturity, this interlude of life where solitude becomes reality — a reality where they can only hit a fork in the road, and the split has been consolidated. It's been forced. **It's going to happen.**_

_This feeling worse than the dysphoria in losing a match, worse than refusing to admit that by now, come hell or high water, somebody would humble this discretion. They both at least had the knowledge that this was... inane. That they were seeking happiness without putting in the effort._

_The only matter was that now, who would be the one to eclipse the other — move on for the better of another._

_The knot in Iwaizumi's stomach insists, still slightly rigid in the way he realizes that the predicament is still in tact. Trepidation has hit tenfold._

_Oikawa plants his feet on the floor, saunters in front of the ace, towering over him. He's superior, confrontational before Iwaizumi watches him get down onto his knees, his powerful presence quickly diminished. Questionable, but also not. Lately, this hadn't been too foreign._

_Oikawa's hair is untouched today, not unsightly, but unkempt. He rests his head on Iwaizumi's thighs, his palms cupping Iwaizumi's hipbones atop his sweater. It's a solemn sight and gesture — cosseting even._

_Hajime drags his calloused fingers through the soft hair, down and framing Oikawa's visage as if he didn't have an image to maintain for Iwaizumi — and Iwaizumi would hope so, that he wouldn't seek others praise as he used to, but he also didn't want him to plummet in esteem as he did once after the prefectures, what felt like he had lost everything._

_But even worse— after Iwaizumi told him about the military._

_**...or maybe he just stopped trying.** _

_For a minute they sit there, breathing, Iwaizumi watches Oikawa's back rise and fall with each breath in affinity._

_And it's nice. The realization that they can still enjoy the physical comfort, a necessity to drown out the discomfort of the inevitable. That Hajime will be gone._

_Before Hajime is able to sedate himself with closing his eyes, competent fingers are trailing down his pelvis to his inner thigh._

_Iwaizumi knows. Complies because he convinces himself this is the last time. Or he tells himself that._

_Last gratifications. Last debauchery. Last lie._

_Oikawa is already thumbing at Iwaizumi's inner thigh, immodestly higher than that. The way Iwaizumi slouches, surrenders, office chair creaking under his weight a sign of acquiescence. He feels more than the unblemished hands on his skin, his skin thawing under the tender intimacy until he realizes Oikawa's rendering him bare. Denuded of the lower body and denuded of morals._

_He feels vulnerable._

_This mantra of immorality as Oikawa does his repetitive obligations. The very hand with so much history within their childhood has Iwaizumi's body set aflame in seconds._

_He'd only hope that despite this contact, the fact they literally couldn't get any closer, was that he_ could _be closer. And maybe he should've watched what he wished for: Oikawa's head leans forward, mouth slack, guided by Iwaizumi's hand; he always led the way._

_"No—" Iwaizumi suddenly says curtly, rationalizing. At that moment, Iwaizumi's hand frees from Oikawa's hair; he shames the shameless._

_Tooru mutters irreverently, benign strokes of his hand has Iwaizumi unravelling; Oikawa knows a way to speed up the process. Rejection isn't something he faces often — ever, and this isn't stopping him. Everything else is immaterial, hardly the truth, and he knows that Iwaizumi has him figured out._

_A defense mechanism, and maybe being too selfless is the only way he can cope with the trivial epiphany. The only way he can shoulder the true epiphany of his upcoming solitude._

_But Iwaizumi himself knows that the closer they are, the further it will take them apart._

_The only way Oikawa knows to contravene is to close the gap, closing in on Iwaizumi; above him he hears a content sigh, feels fingers combing through his hair again._

_His mouth works wonders, better than the first "I love you." Warmer than the first time they held hands. With that thought, Iwaizumi laces his fingers through Oikawa's free hand._

_"Ah, hey," Iwaizumi breaths, the chair creaking under the slight arch of his back when Tooru hums around him, "Oikawa, what— what are we doing?"_

_It slips out;_

_Oikawa slips off, and Iwaizumi takes the second to catch his breath. The look in Oikawa's eyes are solemn, like the intense concentration he once had on the court — an amenity of Oikawa that Iwaizumi never admits to liking._

_Oikawa reiterates, emulates, "What are_ you _doing?"_

_Iwaizumi stops, desiring to quickly dissolve the issue, the moment, and even the inane pruriency. There's poison in the way Oikawa disdains him, disdains the military, as if he betrayed the King, as if this was treachery._

_He fixes to cover himself, hide his transparent vulnerability before Oikawa's lips are on_ him _again, a retaliation but Iwaizumi doesn't complain._

_Iwaizumi is deemed weak as he once again is dragging his fingers through Tooru's hair as if tonight would be the last time he could; he knows that two days from now, that would truly be the case._

_The fact that Oikawa is coping — in a sense more rational — makes Iwaizumi the delusional one. And for once he's sitting on Oikawa's high throne with all of his pessimism._

_"This isn't... ah, fuck..." he manages when Tooru only moans around him, shakes his head, hinders the speech. Doesn't want to hear it._

_Iwaizumi offers something else,_

_"I love you..."_

_Then everything's come undone. Iwaizumi's come undone. The manacles have come undone._

_Iwaizumi had been fraying from the start, but something in him finally snaps amongst his sudden pleasurable haze: his denial that he_ had _brought this upon himself. The pain from what he's letting slip through his fingers although it sits right in front of him. And now it's fading to his periphery._

_Tooru had pulled away, cleaned his visage from the aftermath as if he's settled for impassivity. Iwaizumi's heated body has to settle before his mind does, panting as he watches Oikawa languidly stand up before he grips the other's hand in hindrance._

_This is the one thing he won't let fray. It's heart over matter. Memories over matter — and he intends to make as many as he can before he leaves — as he spins Oikawa around and pulls him into his lap; Tooru doesn't protest, habitually rests his head on Iwaizumi's heart. Pleased in the fact it still beats — as any heart should. But it beats for him, if anything._

_Maybe he's hit the corner of the earth. Knows that there is more to it, that Iwaizumi is still apart of it and him. But for once, he can't explain how void he feels. How he's at a loss that for once, Iwaizumi won't be his._

_Oikawa just doesn't know where he stops and Iwaizumi begins._

 

° ° °

 

Oikawa had been too withdrawn lately, to not write a letter within the few weeks; Iwaizumi had already felt like less of a priority. Or maybe he was overseeing other possibilities; he had, unknowingly, become overtly frantic without Oikawa’s hand to hold.

Iwaizumi had been too selfless lately.

The last thing he had left Oikawa with was a final kiss, inclined to a final primitive respite of passion.

Because he sits in the barracks, blighted by the thought that the aforementioned was almost two months ago, as he writes just one _more_ letter; he’d apparently written the summation of all the letters Oikawa, as of late, had not sent. He would write them for him, if he seemingly had to.

Memories over matter, after all. And he realizes he _can’t_ stop thinking about him.

Except now, Iwaizumi serves under new people, but every moral he sustains is for the sake of Oikawa. He now knows he will never have his approbation. Can't. 

Had he realized the visceral trauma Oikawa was enduring then, maybe he wouldn't have to understand exactly how it feels now. The thought of how altered Oikawa was then didn't negate how incapacitate Iwaizumi felt; how could he help others if he couldn't help himself?

Because he still vividly remembers the way Oikawa's tears finally fell.

The way he fell apart then, and so did Iwaizumi when Oikawa had an unconventional confession himself, that he would be leaving, too. Except he had never vociferated it, never written it amongst their many letters until one of Hajime’s friends, an old team mate, had to tell him the news.

But what Iwaizumi didn't know was that he was indeed right: that all he would have left is the harrowing thought of Oikawa. That this is the farthest he’s ever been and _always_ will be from him.

He had taken all those steps in favor of Oikawa's presence, dissipating the idea of any repercussions. The devolution in Oikawa's state of mind, the complete destruction of his happiness.

Because what he had assumed, back then, was that Oikawa would maybe find tranquility or reform in Iwaizumi's absence elsewhere than the hand of sorrow. That it was only natural to find new penchants, habits, even new domains to dissipate the nostalgics in missing Iwaizumi.

 

. . . But not six feet under.


End file.
